


The Woman With Blue Eyes

by ghostgirl19



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien has amnesia, Aged-Up Characters, F/M, Fluff, I know it's only September but please bear with me, Romance, and is wondering who this blue-eyed woman is that he keeps seeing everywhere, she seems to know him though..., takes place during Christmas time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15967025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostgirl19/pseuds/ghostgirl19
Summary: He's sure he has no idea who she is. So why does she keep appearing wherever he goes?





	The Woman With Blue Eyes

He first noticed her at a fashion show.

It was about a week after he left the hospital. The doctors claimed he suffered a ‘terrible accident’, but other than needing some stitches on the back of his head, he was perfectly fine.  Occasionally there was a dull ache back there, but it was nothing that couldn’t be solved with the pills his doctor prescribed for such aches.

If anything, he felt that he suffered a ‘minor’ accident. Some stitches and a little pain weren’t so terrible in his eyes. Then again, he was no doctor, so he supposed that he couldn’t really say what counted as ‘terrible’ and what didn’t.

Instead, he was a model. At least, that’s what Nathalie told him. She said she was his assistant, and that she had known him since he was a child. She organized all his appointments and meetings, patiently guiding him through on everything he needed to know, including what outfits to wear and what poses to make in fashion shows.

Although, he didn’t really need advice on the latter. Something just clicked when he took that first step out on the runway, every pose and fluid turn just coming naturally to him.

Almost as if he’s been doing it for years.

He was in the middle of the runway, casting a sweeping glance over the crowd and the flashing lights of the cameras, when his gaze happened to fall on a woman sitting in the front row.

She was pretty, was his first thought. Her black hair was pulled into a bun, with twin tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were the color of the sea, almost sparkling when they met with his. The smile she bore stretched wider upon realizing she had his attention, yet all he could do was blankly stare back.

He noticed that she didn’t have a camera on her, nor a notepad or anything else to take notes with. She must’ve only been there to watch and enjoy the show, nothing more. Plenty of people did that if they could afford it or knew someone involved. She wasn’t any different from them.

So why did he keep staring? He was positive he never saw this woman in his entire life. She was beautiful, yes, but that didn’t justify his staring for so long. Right?

The confused murmurs of the crowd were what made him look away and focus on returning to the beginning of the runway, and eventually to behind the stage. Did he always stop to ogle random women during these shows? Was he always getting distracted like this, like some lovestruck teenager? Maybe he did need more advice from Nathalie about fashion shows after all.

* * *

Her advice about staying focused on his task was tested three days later, when during a photo shoot he managed to spot the woman with blue eyes attending to a dress, presumably to be used for another photo shoot. She was sitting on a chair, further back than the photographers and other attendants. No one stopped to talk with her and she didn’t raise her voice to speak at all, her attention solely fixed on sewing the lace on the dress’s hem. She had much better determination than he did. Too many times did he hear the photographer’s voice calling him back to attention after his eyes had wandered for too long.

It wasn’t until the shoot was over that she finally picked up her head and looked at him. Much like at the fashion show, he could only stare blankly while she offered him a warm smile.

But before he could form one of his own, she stood from her seat, neatly folded the dress over her arm, and walked out of the room.

* * *

He tried to ask Nathalie who the elusive woman with blue eyes was. However, a ‘girl with hair as black as night, eyes like bluebells, and a smile as warm as the sun’ wasn’t an accurate enough description. He couldn’t understand why not; in his opinion there wasn’t a girl who could compare to her beauty. Surely someone like her would stand out, even in a company as big as _Gabriel_.

Come to think of it, why was it named that? Nathalie told him that he was the owner of the iconic brand. In that case, shouldn’t it be called _Adrien_ instead? He’d have to remember to ask her that question.

Which would be later, because after a month of seeing the woman with blue eyes at various shows and photoshoots, she was finally approaching him during the company Christmas party.

She wore a red, satin floor-length evening gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. He gulped and upon remembering that he was a gentleman, brought his eyes up to observe her features. The bun that she always styled her hair into was there no longer, instead it flowed in loose curls down her back.

His hand itched to curl a lock of her hair around one of his fingers, something that made him momentarily pause in his admiration of her. Why did he feel the need to do _that_? He didn’t even know this woman.

Perhaps he just had an active imagination.

She walked closer, her red lips quirked up in a smile when she noticed him watching her. In one hand she held a black clutch, in the other was a glass of wine half full. Her blue eyes stayed locked with his until she looked away to situate herself by his side.

No one paid much attention to the two young adults off on the side of the room, not when there was music, dancing and drinking to occupy them.

He finally had the opportunity to talk to her, now if only he could find something to say that didn’t sound stupid or dorky. He turned to her, prepared to offer a greeting of some kind, and was unexpectedly met with the enchanting sight of her bluebell eyes gazing into his green ones. They were lovelier up close, and as he looked down he could see light freckles dusting the bridge of her nose.

She made for a very beautiful Lady in Red, indeed.

A sharp pain on the back of his head was enough to close his eyes and visibly wince. He hadn’t had a pain that severe since he was in the hospital. He bitterly wished he brought his pills with him, as he brought his hand to the back of his head in a hopeless attempt to soothe the pain.

“Are you alright, sir?” the woman with blue eyes questioned, concern evident in her voice. He felt her hand touch his arm in a gesture of comfort, something that made him open in eyes in disbelief.

She was next to him, spoke to him, and touched his arm all in a span of a minute. As the pain subsided to one of his more common aches, he belatedly noted that she had a nice voice, one he could picture himself listening to for hours.

He studied her, feeling something prickling at the back of his head that wasn’t due to the pain he experienced just seconds before. He wanted to reach for something…her hand? Well, that would be nice, but there was something else he wasn’t grasping…

“Sir?” she asked, breaking the silence, and regrettably his concentration.  

He grimaced yet nodded. “Yes, I’m alright. I had an accident recently, so my head randomly hurts sometimes.”

He wasn’t sure why he told her that, she had no right to know what went on in his personal life. Still, he couldn’t find it within himself to find any fault with it. He had an odd feeling that he could tell this woman with blue eyes anything and she would understand and not betray his trust.

What was it about her that made him think such irrational thoughts? She may have been gorgeous, but she was only human.

She peered down at her wine glass yet made no move to raise it to her lips for a sip. “What kind of accident?” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the lid of the glass as she waited for a response.

He shrugged. “I don’t remember. All I know is that I hit my head and needed some stitches for it.”

“Oh,” she said, when he didn’t offer any more of an explanation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.”

He thought everyone in Paris had to have heard about his head injury by now, since he was somewhat of a celebrity. Then again, he supposed that there really wasn’t any other way she could’ve responded.

She took a sip of her wine, bringing to light a rather impressive sight. Well, it might have been impressive to most other people. Personally, he felt rather miffed, though he didn’t know exactly why.

“You’re married?”

She lowered her glass and shook her head.

“Engaged,” she corrected, casting a fond look at the diamonds sitting on her left ring finger. The round stone and the tiny ones circling it caught on the chandelier lights, causing them to sparkle in a way that he had to begrudgingly admit looked nice. Her fiancé had to be a wealthy man to be able to afford such a stunning ring.

Her smile dimmed. “My fiancé was recently in an accident too.”

He blinked, not expecting this new bit of information. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Internally he winced at having repeated her earlier statement; was it that hard to come up with his own words of comfort?

Her smile returned some when she looked up at him again. “Thank you.”

“Is he here?” he asked, peering around the room.

“In a way,” she replied, before taking another drink of her wine. Adrien’s eyebrows pinched together, not understanding her cryptic answer. How was someone there ‘in a way’? They were either here or not. Unless…?

“Is he…dead?” he asked, immediately regretting it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. It wasn’t any of his business to ask that. Besides, what if he accidently caused her to cry or something? He’d feel horrible if she had an emotional breakdown at a party—a _Christmas_ party, no less—that she was supposed to be having fun at all because of his carelessness.

His left hand twitched. Before he could stop himself, he reached for his right ring finger. It was a strange nervous habit, the urge to feel and twist something there, especially since there was nothing but skin.

Her eyes tracked the movement. They darted up just as quickly to his own, searching for a reaction of some sort. It was too bad that he didn’t know what she was looking for, else he would’ve given it to her.

When she looked away, the tiny hopeful spark in her eyes dying, the pain was worse than any headache he had to endure. Except this time, the only pain he felt was in his heart. He felt like he failed her somehow.

She grinned, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“No, he isn’t dead. Although, I guess you could say in a way he is.”

She bit her bottom lip. Her smile faltered for only a moment before she forced it to stretch wider. Adrien wasn’t fooled by the act. It was obvious that she wasn’t happy, not at all. He wondered why she looked so pained, why her fiancé was dead in a way, and why he had the urge to pull her close and reassure her that everything was going to be alright.

“But he’s happy from what I can see,” she continued. A bit of the light returned to her eyes. “Life’s going well for him, almost as if the accident never happened. It’s miraculous that he even survived.”

_Miraculous?_

Something poked at the back of his mind. His right hand twitched. Why did that word have any meaning? What was he missing? Or was he not missing anything and just being paranoid?

He decided to go in a different direction with the conversation. He wanted to quell this frustration as best he could and leave it buried forever.

“Are you two doing anything for Christmas?”

She shook her head and looked away from him, towards the dance floor that was littered with swirling dresses as their partners spun them about merrily. Adrien watched them all with a strange sense of longing, wishing that he had a woman to dance with. But there was something even wrong with that, because he felt that he belonged out there, having just as much fun as the rest of the couples. But he didn’t have a date, and he knew he didn’t have one, but he felt that he didn’t belong on the sidelines watching anyway.

This time when the pain hit, he hid his grimace so the woman with blue eyes wasn’t aware. What a night to choose not to bring his medication. Maybe if he didn’t have these recurring pains he could have a conversation with her and not have to worry about his head.

He peered down at her, who appeared forlorn by the joyful and loving scene before her. Maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t given me any indication that we will. Then again, he’s always been one for surprises.”

She smirked, and… _dammit why did that look so familiar?!_

He wanted to pull his hair out at this point. Only reason he didn’t was because Nathalie wouldn’t approve, given the amount of care that went towards styling his hair for photo shoots.

He was just sick of this. He was sick at grasping for straws, of reaching for something and never touching it. He was tired of brushing his fingertips against _something_ and then having it vanish in a cloud of smoke.

“Merry Christmas, M. Agreste,” she said, pulling him from his erratic thoughts. His eyes widened when he saw her hand outstretched toward him, hiding something in her closed fist.

A present? Why would she give him a present? They barely knew each other.

“Oh. Um, thank you,” he said. He wished he could’ve sounded more eloquent, or at least more appreciative.

“You’re welcome. It’s helped me before, and I think you’ll benefit from it too. It’s my lucky charm.”

_Lucky charm?_

Her ensuing smile warmed him down to the tips of his toes, but this time he matched her expression. He was done with the blank stares. If they meet again, he’ll always greet her with a smile.

She carefully took his hand, deposited her present—it felt cool to the touch—then closed his fingers around it, successfully hiding it from either of their sights.

“Have a good night,” she bid. He wished her the same and then she was on her way.

Adrien looked down at his hand, more than curious about the present. What could she have given him? It wasn’t like she knew him personally enough to know what he would like for a Christmas gift.

He opened his hand. Confused, he lifted the gift so that he was eye-level with it.

Why would she give him this? It didn’t look like anything special, just a red string with some plastic beads on it, something a little girl would make and wear. Why would she think that he would want this for Christmas?

Then again, there was something about it. Something a little familiar. How easy would it be to slip this bracelet into his pocket and take it out whenever he needed a smile? Or a little luck?

_“It’s my lucky charm…”_

Adrien’s head snapped up. He could see her, black curls bouncing and red dress swishing with the steps she made as she continued walking away.

He glanced back at the bracelet in his hand, to her retreating figure, to the bracelet. Back and forth, and back again, until things finally made _sense_.  

Adrien hurriedly returned the bracelet inside his pocket, right where it belonged, and ran. A few people complained as he pushed past them, but he could apologize for that later.

She stopped and turned around, curious about the new commotion arising. Her eyebrows lifted when she saw him running toward her, eyes hard and face set with determination.

He halted in front of her. Faster than she could blink, he placed his hands on either side of her face and bent down.

Her lips tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

Adrien pulled back, softly smiling. He raised her left hand and placed a tender kiss below her engagement ring.

“Merry Christmas, Marinette. May I have this dance?”


End file.
